(Don't Fear) The Reaper
by Ikathy
Summary: Supernatural Series AU. "…You punched the reaper that came for you in the face, didn't you?" Laxus/Mirajane. FT Angst Week Day 1: Silence.
**A/N:** This fic is based on the TV show called "Supernatural". It's about two guys that hunt monsters, such as werewolves, vampires, etc. If you haven't watched it, I suggest you go to the Supernatural wiki and read the Ghosts section before reading.

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 **(Don't Fear) The Reaper**

 **I.**

She's wrapped in three different blankets, yet the room feels unbearably chilly even inside her cocoon of warmth. Her body curls into the tiniest ball she can make, but the cold had already penetrated so deep into her bones she feels herself shaking uncontrollably. She tosses and turns in the bed, but her sleep is already gone, so she lets out a deep sigh and sits on the mattress, leaning against the headboard of the bed.

She opens her tired eyes and that's when she sees him.

Standing in the middle of the room, clothes shredded and dirty, expression blank but at the same time full of sentiment, he watches her. A weird beating noise can be heard in the background and despite both of them being in silence and still, she can't identify its source.

Her first reaction is to grab the gun hidden under the pillow and shoot his translucent body. The bullet is filled with salt, so it has the desired effect on him and he promptly fades like dust being carried away by a breeze. The temperature inside the room rises, but she can't shake the feeling she is slowly freezing to death.

"It cannot be, Laxus. I burned you," she tells mostly to herself with a trembling voice she doesn't know if it's due to coldness, anger or sorrow.

 **II.**

On the next day, she gathers everything that had once belonged to him. His guns, his knifes, his favorite leather jacket she sometimes wore when she wanted to feel his scent on her skin; everything is tossed at a pile on the ground. Then, she pours the whisky he used to drink after every job completed on his belongings, and lights a match above them. Her throat closes when the fire consumes what remained of his existence, but she doesn't have the time to shed tears, as her work is not yet done.

Slowly, she brushes her snow-white hair away from the back of her neck and unhooks the golden chain he gave her a long time ago. Inside the oval pendant, there's a small picture of her along with her siblings in their childhood days, and she smiles at the memory of three kids playing in the backyard and running on dump grass with bare feet, all smiles and giggles, without a worry in the world. All of that was gone when the yellow-eyed demon slaughtered her family.

She then wonders if she has some sort of curse in which everyone around her dies.

Throwing her most cherished treasure on that fire makes her heart ache so much she thinks it's going to explode, just like his did when the werewolf tore his chest apart. Much to her dismay, it doesn't, so she just stands there and watches as the fire slowly melts metal, leather and memories altogether. When she decides she did enough for a day, it's already dark in the woods and the cool breeze is making her skin crawl. She gives one last look at the ashes before stuffing her hands in her pockets and turning to leave.

He is standing a few steps away, with the same odd expression and the same big, gruesome hole in his chest. She tries focusing on the lighting-shaped scar that crosses the right side of his face instead, the outcome of a very stupid wrestling attempt with a _wendigo_. It hurts too much.

"Fuck, Laxus, what the hell is keeping you here?" she asks dryly before brushing past his ethereal body, pretending she is not hearing that noise again.

 **III.**

The car's engine gives its last roar before she turns the key, switching it off forever. It's an old 67' Chevy Impala painted all black, the thing he cherished most in his life, his _baby_. It belonged to his grandfather, a hunter that became famous for various deeds, including escaping from a pack of hellhounds and finishing off one of the biggest witch covens in the country. The old man gave the car to him before passing away, and since that day the two became inseparable.

She shoots a final glance at the car before slamming the door shut, thinking about the countless times they had made love in the backseat. The feeling of leather against her skin covered in sweat was unpleasant, but she had never felt the need to complain.

It is almost physically painful to cover that car in gasoline.

Taking some safe distance, she aims her gun at the car, but hesitates for a second when he materializes in front of her. This time, his expression is contorted in one of pain and the beating noise pounds almost unbearably against her ears. She keeps the hold on her gun firm, but her conviction does not follow and sooner than expected she is beginning to crumble. Her fingers start to tremble and she suspects her voice will do the same if she dares to say a word, but she feels she owes him an explanation, even if he probably already knows what she is doing.

She tries to gather the right words to say, but finds none that would honor the man he once was. That's the moment when she realizes she has nothing else but tears to give him, and they finally roll freely down her face after days — _weeks_ — of being restrained inside of her.

"I'm so sorry," she mutters before aiming the gun one more time and taking the shot.

 **IV.**

"… You punched the reaper that came for you in the face, didn't you?"

The answer he gives her is a sad smile, a mere ghost of his old, crooked one.

 **V.**

This is the end for her.

Trapped in a tiny room, the huge wound in her stomach bleeding like a crimson waterfall she gave up trying to stanch a long time ago, she's no less than dead. The only things separating her from a huge nest of bloodthirsty vampires are an old wooden door covered by mold, with hinges too rusted to withstand the kicks they are throwing at it, and the piece of furniture she dragged in front of it, also not strong enough to stand as a barrier.

She lets herself slide to the floor and cries.

It's a cry of desperation, fear and agony. She feels ashamed of her final moments, but it was easier when he was there and she needed to be brave for both of them. Now, she is all alone, head twinging in pain with the strange but familiar loud noise echoing in the room, and unable to see the creatures lying underneath the dark, just waiting to grab her, to _butcher_ her. She thinks about the pure innocence of her infant siblings, about the life she could have never had after the tragedy that destroyed her family, about how the person she loved most in the world had his heart ripped off of his chest right in front of her.

She tries to think of a pray, but none comes to mind, although she _does_ tell God she's going to kick his Holy ass when — or if — she arrives in Heaven.

As to prove He has a wicked sense of humor, the divine answer comes sooner than she expects, in the form of a box full of explosives she finds stashed between construction tools. It's her moment of clarity: if she has to die, then she will take each one of those bastards along with her.

He stands in front of her as her shaking hands desperately tries to set the explosives before the vampires finally break the door.

"Mira," his voice is hoarse and hollow, a lament that reverberates inside her skull along with that unbearable thumping noise. She blusters at him to shut his fucking mouth up while she's busy, but the truth is that she doesn't want to face her biggest failure before leaving this world. No matter how many things she burned, no matter how many spells she tried, she wasn't able to put his soul to rest.

It is too late for both of them now.

Leaning against the wall, she takes a deep breath and waits for her final moment to come. The noise that has been haunting her is louder than ever, even louder than the sound of the door cracking. She closes her eyes and, for the first time, embraces that noise. It's a beating sound that comes from inside her chest, as if something is imprisoned there and is struggling to get out.

 _Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump._

She understands now.

"That's what is keeping you here, isn't it?" she asks him, a humorless smile on her face. The numbness coming from the huge amount of blood she lost finally starts to get the best of her. "It's alright. We will be alright, Laxus. This — this shit hole — will be over soon. The noise will be over soon. I promise you that."

He stares at her with anguish in his eyes, but her spirit has already been washed over with peace. She is going to be able to save him, after all.

The door cracks open and the last thing she sees is the flash of the explosion.

Then, it's just silence.


End file.
